


Domestic Bliss

by orphan_account



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: All the fluff to get over that soul crushing season finale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Eve Polastri/Villanelle, Eve and Villanelle have a baby, Eve’s the helicoptor mom, F/F, Family Fluff, Married Life, No Spoilers, No smut just good clean family fun, Villanelle is the fun parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-11 20:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eve and Villanelle take their young daughter out in the city for some icecream.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Villanelle and Eve running away together and eventually having a kid is just so pure to me. There’s a thousand angsty opportunities after that season finale but for now I just want to stick in the realm of fluff and I hope you’ll join me :))

The telltale pitter patter of tiny feet on the hallways hardwood gives Eve just enough time to close the article on her wife’s latest murder before Genevieve Hana Astonkova comes bouncing into the room, a very Villanelle esque pout on her pudgy face.  

 

 

“ _Mother!”_ She whines blowing a honey colored curl out of her eyes. Eve laughs to herself at her daughter’s formal address. 

 

 

“Hold on sweet pea I’ve got to finish something up.” She smiles apologetically, but Genevieve is not deterred. 

 

 

“You promised we’d go out and do something this afternoon! It’s 12:03! That’s three minutes into the afternoon!” She points out as if Eve doesn’t know what noon signifies. “Time’s a wasting!” Eve rolls her eyes and adds a point to her mental tally. Villanelle taught her the saying a few weeks ago and now Genevieve won’t stop slipping it into every conversation she has. Villanelle thinks it’s hilarious, of course but she isn’t the one who has to listen to it all day. 

 

 

“What’s the magic word?” Eve teases.

 

 

” _Please_!” Genevieve yells and then without a hint of hesitation. “Kérem! S’il vous plaît!” Her french accent is a little off but Eve holds out her hand for a high five anyways, because spouting off vocab in three languages is quite a feat for a four year old. 

 

 

Her daughter slaps her palm and turns on her heels sprinting out of the room without another word, trusting that Eve will follow her. Eve groans and pulls herself out of bed taking a quick look in the mirror and instantly regretting it. She runs a hand through her hair pulling lightly at the gray strand in the front of her ponytail. Villanelle will tease her about it later but her coloring appointment isn’t too far off and she figures she can hide it until then. There’s no denying having a child has aged them, both physically and emotionally but Villanelle’s still the clown she’s always been.

 

 

Eve finds Genevieve carefully buckling the strap on her Young Versace pink leather baroque shoes. The little girl wearing an expression of deep concentration. It had been Villanelle’s idea to fill their daughter’s wardrobe with brand name apparel. Eve has always thought it pointless for kids to have clothes they couldn’t play dirty in and she’d told Villanelle as much all the way back when they’d been strolling Parisian boutiques for baby clothes, her wife’s belly looking like it was ready to pop. 

 

 

They had compromised in the end, something the two women had gotten a lot better at over the years. Genevieve had ended up with a closet full of brand names from Villanelle and a closet full of babygap from Eve. They’d similarly divided her name, Genevieve for Villanelle’s love of the French aesthetic and Hana from Eve’s Korean heritage.

 

 

Genieive tends to put together outfits  from a mix of the closets a misfire on Villanelle’s part. After all it was she  who had decided that Genevieve, then age three, needed space to “find her own fashion sense”. Her wife may have dissaproved but Eve loved her daughter’s eccentric outfits even if they led to a few stares whenever they mingled with Villanelle’s high society friends. 

 

 

Today her daughter is rocking a blue zebra print blouse with purple  jeans a big red bow, and now the new pink Young Versace shoes. 

 

 

“Where do you want to go?” Eve smiles  as she slips on some flats and a thin sweater over her stained T-shirt.

 

 

“Can we get icecream at the Nyami Nyami parlor?” Genevieve asks puppy dog eyes on full blast. 

 

 

 _Shit._ Eve thinks to herself. Nyami Nyami is a fancy dessert parlor in downtown Budapest that Villanelle had treated the family to after Eve had gotten her job teaching Tuesday’s and Thursday’s  at the University. It was decadent, obscenely expensive and had a dress code that definitely didn’t fit Eve’s current sweatpants “stay at home mom running on four hours of sleep and five cups of coffee” look. 

 

 

“Love bug why don’t we grab a burger at McDonald’s instead.” Eve pleads. Genevieve little faces scrunches up in protest but splits into a wide grin when a voice from the entryway says. 

 

 

“Of course we can!” Villanelle leans down to scoop her daughter up tossing her in the air and catching her with a laugh. 

 

 

“Careful!” Eve warns. 

 

 

“You’re home early mommy!” Geneivive notes, giggling in between tosses.

 

 

”Job was a lot easier than expected.” Villanelle winks at Eve who shoots her a glare. Both women had agreed that Villanelle would take maternity leave from her work the second the pregnancy test came back positive. They’d been a single income family for a while. Villanelle had gone back to working shifts at the cafe when Genevieve was six months but it was only once Genieveve started school last year [Kindergarden in Hungary was compulsory for all kids over the age of three] that she had reacclimated to her _other_ line of work.

 

 

Now Villanelle only took jobs during the time that Genivieve was at school. At first Eve had been more than a little worried about her wife assasinating public figures in broad daylight. Villanelle had welcomed the challenge, joking that it was a major motivator for getting rid of the last of her pregnancy weight.

 

 

Once Eve had asked Villanelle what they’d do when Genivieve was old enough to start asking questions. Questions about the extented families she could never meet, about their lives before she came into them. Eve dreads the day that Genieive will come home with an old newspaper or catch glimpse of the newest made for TV movie or documentary about her parents and wonder why the women shown look so much like them. The day her daughter will find out that her real last name isn’t Tòth but Astonkova and that Emma the Professor and Nicole the waitress are really Eve the disgraced MI6 agent and Villanelle the Russian assasain. Villanelle had just kissed her forehead and assured her they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. For now Eve would enjoy their simple life.

 

 

“What are you going to get at Nyami Nyami Gene?” Villanelle asks as Genievie walks between them from the elevator to Villanelle’s Volvo, one mom holding each hand. 

 

 

“Splumoni.” Genievive answers butchering the pronunciation as Eve buckles her into her carseat. Eve can hear Villanelle’s peals of laughter as she crosses around the back of the car smiling a bit at the collection of bumper stickers that have amassed there. “Baby up in this bitch” and “Honk if a kid falls out” are Villanelle’s favorites while Eve prefers the arguably even tackier “My child is the kid of the month at Pelletier Nursery school.”

 

 

Eve slides into the passenger seat swatting at a pair of fuzzy dice so she can lean over and give Villanelle a kiss hello.

 

 

”EWw” Genevieve protests shrieking so loudly they pull apart bumping noses along the way. “Hurry up! Time’s a wasting!” Their daughter continues. 

 

 

“Ha! That’s her twelfth today!” Eve tells Villanelle. “I think it’s a new record.” 

 

 

“Fuck!” Villanelle laughs softly. Eve’s gasp is loud. “Shush! Do not teach our kid that language.” But her reprimand is louder.

 

 

“Mom? What does _fuck_ mean?” Genevieve asks from the backseat all innocence and curiosity. 

 

 

“Nicole.” Eve grits her teeth. “I’m going to kill you.”

 

 

The line outside Nyami Nyami is short and orderly, immediately interrupted when shortly after their arrival Genevive gets it in her head to try and catch a pidgeon from a puddle off the sidewalk. 

 

 

“Sweetheart come here!” Eve smiles tightly at the posh moms all around them watching her daughter misbehave. 

 

 

“You worry too much!” Villanelle takes her wife’s hand as they walk inside. “Children need to run a little wild! My parents pretty much left me alone and I turned out great.” She brags. 

 

 

“Mmm I’m not sure Interpol would agree with you there.” Eve jokes. “Plus she’s running through those puddles in the new Young Versace you bought her.” Eve laughs as she watches her wife’s eyes go wide. 

 

 

“Genevieve! Get out of that puddle!” 

 

 

They end up sitting underneath a pink and white striped umbrella enjoying the light breeze, Genevieve with her splumoni and Eve and Villanelle sharing a  large banana split. Their daughter has made friends with a tourist  boy the next table over and she’s chattering away with him in English. The boys father flashes a thumbs up at Eve and she sends a tentative one back. 

 

 

“Our daughter is a prodigy.” Villanelle beams, a spot of whip cream on the edge of her nose. Eve wipes it away. 

 

 

“She really is.” 

 

 

That night they count the money Villanelle’s made from her kill storing it in the glass jar they’re using to save up for a kitchen remodel. Villanelle makes her famous spaghetti and they eat at the dinner room table laughing at Genevieve’s sauce covered face. They tuck her into bed by nine after pantomiming through three of her favorite storybooks. Villanelle’s mainly the one who keeps the theatricality alive using her talent with accents to portray the many voices of the cartoon characters. 

 

 

Eve and Villanelle spend the rest of the evening watching a game of thrones rerun cuddled up under a quilt they’d gotten at Villanelle’s baby shower. Even with all the blood and gore Eve still nods off at around the half hour mark Villanelle half carrying her into their bedroom after the episode is over.

 

 

They are the very definition of domestic bliss. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! A continuation! Now with Grandpa!Constantin and Grandma!Carolyn. This is getting consistently more cracky but I’m enjoying writing it. Not sure if there’s more to follow but I suspect so.... :))

Genevieve is turning five the day after tomorrow. In her old life, when Eve had thought of being a mother she never planned to be the kind of parent spending hours on the internet, cooing over extravagant birthday decorations. Then again, she hadn’t exactly expected to wind up _marrying_ a serial killer either. Yet here she is, her Pinterest account open to four distinct examples of a stormtrooper shaped birthday cake with Villanelle’s head nuzzled in her lap. Eve had made the mistake of introducing their daughter to the original trilogy a few months earlier and things has snowballed past the point of no return since. Genevieve flat out refused to have a party with any other theme. Her wife groans, the harsh light from Eve’s computer clearly interrupting her quest for sleep.

 

 

 _“Eve”_ she huffs. “It’s past midnight! You’re not going to will Genevieve’s perfect party into existence by blue balling yourself looking at other people’s attempts!” Villanelle’s face is barely visible from within the fold of her oversized pink bathrobe. Eve smiles fondly at her.

 

 

”I don’t understand how it got so late...” She says as apologetically as she can manage. You know I have an obsessive personality. Hell! _You’re_ exhibit A!”

 

 

”Do you remember when we bought Gene that wonder loom for Christmas? She thought it was stupid but then _you_ found it! I’d never seen someone so enthralled with arts and crafts! You took that thing everywhere Even! Even on the toilet. If I open our storage closet I wonder if you could save me before I am tragically crushed to death underneath thousands of forgotten rainbow bracelets!” Villanelle teases. 

 

 

“Oh my god shut _up_!” Eve buries her face in her pillow. “It’s on me to make this party work. It’s stressful V!”

 

 

“I’m sorry baby.” Villanelle rubs her shoulders soothingly. “You know it’s been a busy week for my mail order murders...”

 

 

”I’m glad business is booming! Don’t get me wrong. It would just be great to have a little help with the domestic that’s all.” Eve closes the laptop and snuggles into Villanelle’s chest. The younger woman rewards her with a chaste forehead kiss. 

 

 

“I’ve got a free day tommorow. We can practice making that dumbass cake if you want.” Villanelle offers. 

 

 

“Sounds good to me.” Eve shoves her playfully. “Something tells me it’s going to take a big of trial and error.” 

 

 

Turns out a “bit” of trial and effor is quite the understatement. The next afternoon Villanelle and Eve are standing shoulder to shoulder in their kitchen. They had decided to work during Genevieve’s naptime so the cakes triumphant appearance at the party could retain an element of surprise. Except now an arrival of the cake at all, let alone a _triumphant_ one is looking less likely by the minute. On the kitchen counter sits three attempts in various stages of crumble and droop. Villanelle charred the the first base that sits smoking on a cooling rack but the second had gone fairly well....until the time had come to ice it. It was supposed to be Yoda. Genevieve’s favorite character and the inspiration behind her new nonsensical   sentences that had slowly replaced Eve’s daily tally counts for “Time’s a wasting!” 

 

 

The cake ended up looking like a cross between pond sludge and as Villanelle so tastefully put it, “Dobby the house elf on crack cocaine.”  The tan of his robes have blended with the unsavory neon green they used on his face. His right eye is roughly twice the size of his left. The two women had a good laugh about the attempt and decided Genevieve would have to settle for the stormtrooper cakes Eve had found on Pinterest. Armed with the original posters too much time on her hands instructions the women had figured not much could go wrong. But lord how wrong they’d been....

 

 

Classically impatient Villanelle refused to let the third cake cool before starting in on the frosting. The end result of this was a very emotional trooper with black tear tracks from the frosting on his eyes dripping off the sides of his helmet. And the sheer amount of frosting used to create what was originally a fairly accurate mask is now caving the cake in on itself.

 

 

“What have I done to deserve this!” Villanelle whisper shouts to the heavens,  quiet enough not to wake Genevieve [who is just as grumpy as Villanelle  when she doesn’t get enough beauty sleep] “Wait! Don’t answer that!” She adds before Eve’s fully formed a witty comeback. 

 

 

“We’re going to have to outsource.” Eve sighs, hands on her hips as the surveys the hideous fruits of their labour.

 

 

“Think any of this can be salvaged?” Villanelle wonders.

 

 

“Definitely not this one.” Eve frowns carefully poking at the burnt out husk of the first cake with the business end of an icing tube.

 

 

“It wasn’t my fault that I accidentally cooked it on 650 degrees instead of 250! Your Princess Leia impression was so impressive. I lost myself for a second.” Villanelle protests. On an impulse Eve takes a fistful of illfated Yoda cake and smashes it on Villanelle’s face. 

 

 

The younger woman sputters eyelashes caked with icing before taking a tentative lick at the area around her mouth. “These things are ugly as sin but they taste wonderful.” She happily informs Eve. 

 

 

“ _Really_? Hold on let me taste.” Eve leans forward intending to dip a finger into the cake but Villanelle comes up behind her and shoves her face into it. 

 

 

“Did you get a good taste!” Villanelle guffaws after she lets Eve up for breath. The food fight that ensues  is so rambunctious, icing and cake splattering the cabinets and their clothing, they almost don’t notice Genevieve’s  appearance. Their daughte is standing at the end of the hallway, clutching her favorite stuffed tiger and sleepily rubbing her eyes.

 

 

“Mommy? Mother? What are you guys doing.” She yawns a hint of irritation in her voice.

 

 

The two women freeze. But both frosted cakes are smashed beyond recognition by that point. The secret is safe. They end up sitting in a circle on the living room carpet, Genevieve bouncing on Eve’s lap, using oversized serving forks to finish off the last of the mess. The tantrum they’re both expecting never comes. Dessert always seems to cure Genevieve’s moods. It takes Eve almost an hour to scrub the last of the icing off the wallpaper after they put Genevieve to bed. But it’s more than worth it.

 

 

The party starts at eleven the next morning. Eve spent thirty minutes the night before describing  to a bakery assistant at Nyami Nyami their precise order, right down to Yodas ideal wrinkle size. It had taken a lot of coercing on Villanelle’s part to convince Eve that thirty minute updates on the cakes status weren’t necessary. As of now Genevieve is running circles around the other kids in her yoda costume waving a light up saber so enthusiastically Eve’s a little afraid there’s going to have to be a visit to the emergency room if one of her friends gets within her orbit.

 

 

Meanwhile Eve is sitting at the table in a white dress and imitation space buns with some the other parents, enjoying the dry ice punch Villanelle had whipped up a few minutes before the first guests arrived. Her wife is once again attempting to chat up Alfred the single dad to Genevieve’s best friend  Marianna, ironically one of the only adults who hasn’t fallen in love with Villanelle’s special brand of charm. He’s also one of the only adults that hasn’t dressed up.  “Party pooper.” Villanelle had whispered in her ear when he arrived.

 

 

Alfred had stolen the ceramic bowl of white cheddar cheese puffs Eve set out for the kids and was probably in the middle of finding a nice place to eat them when Villanelle cornered him in the breakfast nook. Eve watches as she backs him against the wall chattering away and jokingly pointing her plastic blaster at his head. Even when she’s dressed as a gender bent Han Solo Villanelle’s insanely attractive, and just  intimidating. Eve’s just decided she’ll have to leave a very engaging conversation on  Nursery World magazine to bail him out when she gets a ping on her phone. 

 

 

_Hello! This is Francis from Nyami Nyami dessert parlor texting to let you know your cake is ready for pickup!_

 

 

In all the chaos of shepherding seven hyperactive preschoolers through very specific party activities Eve had  forgotten about the damn cake. She rescues Alfred by dragging Villanelle towards the front door leaving the grateful dad in charge of the party proceedings while they’re gone. 

 

 

They speed through the city and reach Nyami Nyami in record time. With any luck this will go so quickly Genevieve won’t even notice they’re gone. For a while it seems like Murphy’s law has cut them a break. The pickup goes smoothly, while Villanelle pays up Eve regales in the beauty that is the professionally done yoda cake. Each wrinkle is _perfect_. 

 

 

“Satisfied by this, she will be.” Villanelle jokes perfectly adapting the Jedi masters accent.

 

 

“Jesus Christ Villanelle!  I already get enough of that from Genevieve. Don’t you start.” Eve smiles as they leave the stoor, free chocolate covered strawberry sample in hand. 

 

 

“Hello Eve. Villanelle.” A familiar voice calls from the outdoor seating area. Eve’s blood runs cold as she turns to find Constantin and Carolyn Martens sitting together over what looks to be a giant slice of fruitcake.

 

 

”What are you two _doing_ here?” Eve asks.

 

 

”And more importantly is that _fruitcake_?“ Villanelle sounds incredulous.

 

 

“Yes.” Carolyn smiles. “Constantin and I have somewhat of a tradition when we travel. We often stop at bakeries along the way and order the fruitcake. We have yet to find a slice that is not detestable.” 

 

 

“But still, we continue our search.” Constantin chimes in.

 

 

”What are you two doing in Budapest?” Carolyn knits her eyebrows, quite calm for just discovering two fugitives outside a gourmet bakery. 

 

 

“And more importantly is that a _yoda_ cake.” Constantin sounds confused. 

 

 

“Yes I think it is.” Carolyn answers.

 

 

”We’re late for a party.” Villanelle blurts out before Eve can stop her. 

 

 

“Oh?” Carolyn takes a delicate bite of her fruitcake wrinkling her face in disgust. “Check this one off the list Constantin. Disgusting.” She shudders. 

 

 

“Are we invited?” Constantin wonders. 

 

 

“Closed party. Sorry.” Eve replies itching for a quick escape. 

 

 

“Are you sure  Eve? It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other!” Carolyn frowns.

 

 

”You’re a senior agent in MI6. Do you think I’m an idiot? I can’t just take you to a party.”

 

 

“Sure you can! It’s just one day. Budapest is neutral ground.” Carolyn shrugs laying her hand on Constantin’s arm.  “A place for old friends to meet without fear of repercussion.” 

 

 

“You’re not here to capture us?” Villanelle seems almost disappointed. 

 

 

“No Villanelle. Keep your narcissism in check. We are here for each other’s  company and the fruitcake.” 

 

 

“This is ridiculous.” Eve laughs. “Objectively, inconceivably, laughably ridiculous.” 

 

 

“Oh I quite agree!” Carolyn nods. “That is what makes my life so enjoyable! I’ve found that ridiculous situations are drawn to me. Ridiculous people as well.” She looks pointedly at Constantin. “You remember the rat Eve.” 

 

 

“Rat?” Constantin asks. 

 

 

“Yes. It was drinking from a coke bottle beside our office-”

 

 

”Both hands.” Eve finishes. “I know. We have a cake to deliver. We should go.” Eve reminds her wife. 

 

 

“We’ll just leave the money for the bill here.” Carolyn says brightly.

 

 

”You’re not coming with us.” Eve insists. 

 

 

“Would you rather we call Interpol?” Constantin wonders. Eve groans. She really doesn’t want to be dragged to jail in a DIY Star Wars cosplay. 

 

 

“If you touch either of the Yoda’s at the party? I will shove my  blaster down your throat.” Villanelle pats her holster once they’re settled into the women’s Volvo. The couple in the back of the car look at each other, confused. The yoda cake sits between them, secure in its own seatbelt. 

 

 

They are greeted at the door by a mob of  screaming children. One step inside makes it quite clear that Alfred is incapable of keeping order. Genevieve rushes through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. She pauses in front of them looking between her parents.

 

 

”Control of the masses I have!” She brags. “Overpower the sith quickly we will!”  She raises her lightsaber. Constantin chuckles from behind Eve and Villanelle. That’s when Genevieve notices him her eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

 

 

“Who’s the  old man mommy?” She asks curiously. “He’s very large.”

 

 

” _Mommy_?” Constantin repeats.

 

 

“Oh dear.” Carolyn huffs. “It appears we’ve misread the situation entirely.”

 

 

“Genevieve! _Manners_!” Eve scolds instinctively. Carolyn’s eyebrows shoot past the stratosphere. 

 

 

“Genevieve...” Villanelle smirks, sensing a unique opportunity and taking it. “These are your grandparents.”

 

 

The resulting shriek is so loud every head in the room that’s managed to carry on a separate conversation turns to the doorway. Eve’s ears haven’t had a chance to recover before before Genevieve is sprinting towards Constanin her robes skimming the floor as she runs. She launches herself at Constantin clambering up his leg like a spider monkey possessed. Caroyln scrambles backwards, not quickly enough to avoid her own reckoning. 

 

 

“Hello. Tiny child.” Carolyn gasps from inside their daughters death grip. 

 

 

After Genevieve has blown out her candles and Yoda has been dismembered the guests  file to the living room to watch the A New Hope  from Ewok shaped popcorn buckets Carolyn, Constantin, Eve and Villanelle are left almost entirely alone. Alfred sulks in the corner checking his stocks and nursing a blow from Genevieve’s lightsaber with a bag of frozen peas. The four are seated around the now empty dining room table staring forlornly at the half of Yodas ear that has avoided consumption. Eve thinks that the addition of white sprigs of ear hair may have been a touch too realistic.

 

 

”We didn’t know it was a party at your _home_ Villanelle. We expected a charming adult costume party in a fancy hotel. Not a preschoolers  birthday. I wouldn’t have let Carolyn press so hard if I had known.” Constantin tells her 

 

 

”It appears you have much more to catch me up on than I first thought.” Carolyn smiles. “You have a daughter. She is amazingly energetic however do you deal with it?” 

 

 

“Black coffee!” Villanelle swings an arm around Eve’s tense shoulders. “And _lots_ of Xanax!” 

 

 

“You’ve made a home for yourself here.” Constantin notes, staring at Genevieve’s latest report card hanging from a fridge magnet.

 

 

”Complete with neighborhood barbecues.” Carolyn adds pointing out the invitation hanging next to it. 

 

 

“This is _Genevieve’s_ home.  It’s all she's ever known. This visit means we’ll have to uproot her.” 

 

 

“Unless we kill you both!” Villanelle points out brightly. Alfreds eyes bug out of his head. 

 

 

“Only kidding!” Villanelle reassures him. “These are old friends Alfred. They understand my humor even if you not.” He nods but hightails it to the living room. Eve is glad to see him go. 

 

 

“Carolyn and I don’t plan to rat you out. I look back on our time spent together with great fondness. The jagged edges of unpleasant memories are dulled by time. 

 

 

“Like when I shot you!” Villanelle’s grin grows wider.

 

 

“Yes Villanelle. Like when you shot me.” Constantin agrees. “Or when I used you to get information on my family.”

 

 

“I won’t bet my daughter’s safety on _fond_ _memories._ There’sno way to hold you to a spoken promise.” Eve tells him.

 

 

”Don’t worry mama bear.” Villanelle sighs. “You know I will fight to my last breath to protect our Gene. Even from old friends.”

 

 

Constantin reaches for a handful of Yoda cake, contemplating. Villanelle slaps his hand away. 

 

 

“I said not to touch either Yoda!” 

 

 

“Forgive me if I wanted to have a half decent last meal before you shoot me again.” He deadpans.

 

 

Villanelle shakes her head. “I wouldn’t shoot you. That didn’t work last time.” 

 

 

“There’s another way, before you stress eat yourself into an even larger man.” Carolyn teases. 

 

 

“I didn’t planning on dying today.” Constantin nods.

 

 

”We can extend our vacations a week while you decide what to do. There are many bakeries in Budapest we’ve yet to sample fruit cake from. Besides. Genevieve should have a chance to know her grandparents.” Carolyn smiles wryly.

 

 

“Consider it a stay of execution.” Constantin offers.

 

 

 

“Jesus Christ.” Eve laughs, a little hysterically. “We should have just stuck with the emo stormtrooper Villanelle!” 

 

 

“I’m so glad we didn’t! Your perfectionism has caused a wonderful turn of events. The old gang, back together again.” She squeals.

 

 

They find Genevieve on the couch after the last of the guests leave. The little girl is curled up around several Ewok buckets. Sound asleep.

 

 

“She has your hair Eve.” Carolyn nods approvingly. 

 

 

“And your awful snoring Villanelle.” Constantin adds.

 

 

Eve hoists her daughter into her arms and carries her to he room, laying her atop a bed filled with far too many stuffed toys. 

 

 

The four adults work together to clean after the party, sweeping the area for excess wrapping paper  and creating a small but affective assembly line for the mountain of dishes. [Eve’s ceramic bowl is missing, as are the rest of the cheese puffs. She suspects Alfred]  

 

 

At one point Villanelle stops and throws a convivial arm around Constantin and Carolyn. 

 

 

“Look at us! Savages folded into domesticity! One big happy _family_.” 

 

 

Eve sighs. No matter what  they decide in the end it’s going to be a long week.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism and feedback is much appreciated :))

**Author's Note:**

> Comments kudos and constructive criticism are much appreciated!! :))


End file.
